Quiet Out Loud
by LeMouk
Summary: AH, E/B: They're studying abroad in England. They don't know each other yet, and each of them struggles with the turbulence of young adults. It's an exploration of non-conventional forms of communication, including body language, seeing as Edward is deaf.
1. Stoclet Frieze

**A/N: Hi! This is my first Twilight-based fanfiction, and actually my first fanfiction in a few years. Since it's the summertime, hopefully I'll be able to update quickly. There's surprises to come, it'd compromise the integrity of the story if I gave it away in the summary. I'd love to know what you think, so welcome to my world.**

**Disclaimer: I disclaim all rights to Stephanie Meyer's Twilight series. No copyright infringement is intended, as the lovely author and her characters are in no way affiliated with me. We're not in cohorts, I swear.**

Gustav Klimt's Stoclet Frieze greeted her as she poured her cereal in the morning. The three stages of life – Expectation, the Tree of Life, and Fulfillment – were a tad heavy for the morning time, but it was her only calendar. She completed another X in the prescribed square; it was March 18th.

_The ides of March_, her brain said, wistfully remembering that sophomore year of high school, when her English teacher at Forks had bombarded them with Shakespeare.

_That was a good year_, she mused, munching happily on her oats. Bella recalled her impression of _Julius Caesar. _Despite Brutus' mistake, she had always thought that he was a good man. A great, but confused, character. Shakespeare's description of his guilt had grieved Bella at the time, and she imagined now that if it had been possible, she would have told Brutus not to beat himself up. She wouldn't have let him spear himself on that sword…

_Man, Shakespeare knew how to write a tragedy_, she thought idly.

An alarm went off in the apartment next door, and through the thin walls she could hear Felix stirring. That was her cue to hop in the shower, or she'd never make it to her morning class. They had a system of sorts going. His alarm helped her to organize her morning – something she'd not yet mastered. And she'd gotten into the habit of bringing him some sort of sandwich when she stopped by after class. Felix, despite his namesake, was a moody recluse as well as a computer whiz; he spent his hours clacking away at his keys. He often looked a little gaunt, as though he was too busy programming to remember to eat. So Bella began leaving the sandwich on the step with a curt knock on the door.

Some days, Bella supposed this made them friends. She was accustomed to him; he was a fixture in her life, kind of like the bread shop on the corner. But a bread shop is different than a confidante. No, they weren't friends.

Bella turned on the tap in her bathroom and held in a gulp and a jerk when it sputtered out a coppery liquid before thankfully stuttering and running clear. An old, wizened pipe, it did this every time. Despite such plumbing inconveniences and the lack of privacy (courteously provided by the thin walls), the rustic apartment complex was not without its perks. One such perk was the vintage furniture left behind by past tenants, which included but was not limited to the deep purple, deeply squashy recliner in her living room. It also included this spacious shower that, if one could withstand the jarring copper beginnings, was quite nice.

She let the butterflies overwhelm her as she stood under the stilted stream of the showerhead. She was in England, spending a semester abroad. Back in Seattle, she was enrolled at UDub. But the proximity to her unfulfilling life in Forks and the chafing familiarity of the country had made her itch. There was a tugging at her heart that told her something had to change. That feeling of waiting for something followed her around all of freshman year. She studied French and English, and was minoring in Education, in case she ever became a teacher. Teachers were always needed, she figured, and this way she could study whatever she wanted, if only to teach it to other people, whose only use for it in life would be to teach it to others, just like her.

She wouldn't retire early or sail a yacht, but a free summer meant more to her. Nonetheless, all that year, when she went to bed at night, the recurring thought was that something's gotta give.

Either the city was going to magically become where she wanted to be, or she was going to have to go where she wanted. Obviously the latter won, hence the antiquated apartment in Kingston upon Thames, a town on the borders of London and Surrey. UDub in Seattle had a partner college with Kingston University of London, and things fell into place from there.

She had considered going abroad to France, to perfect the language, but as it would be her first time truly far away from her home, she wanted to start small. As in, a place where she could speak the native tongue, even if she did have a foreign accent. Luckily, one could take more than one semester abroad and still graduate with a UDub diploma, so her application to the program in France was waiting in the wings.

Her first class, at 8:00 in the morning, was Botany, and as the semester went on, so her garden grew too: flourishing with lavender, basil, coriander, aloe, and daisies – all swiped from the greenhouse after class. It gave her something to do while she was busy not going out at night. Despite her good intentions, the devil-may-care attitude she had hoped going abroad might bring about did not in fact come with the package.

She reckoned that making friends was hindered by the lack of commonality – _certainly not by any shyness on my part,_ she thought sarcastically. In truth though, it seemed as though everyone was cut from a different block here. The boys wore blazers with the cuffs rolled up, their lined shirts unbuttoned at the top with a loose tie slung around their necks. It was straight out of a movie; classic British college kids. Her palms sweated at the thought of approaching them. The girls were just as casually chic, and Bella didn't appreciate their appraising looks.

It wasn't all doom and gloom though; a few people had mercifully approached her. The most persistent was a fellow American student, Mike Newton. He was nice enough – too much like home though. She couldn't bring herself to really push him away, since she conveniently had but one class with him: "Exploring Emotive Shakespeare". Because what better place to study the bard than on his home turf?

It was 7:45 AM – if she left now, she would get to there with time to spare. Pulling her hair high up on her head, she hopped on her bike, heading for the steamy, fragrant greenhouse. While the city around her gathered momentum for the day, she saw herself reflected in the tinted glass windows of the sparkling cars that passed her on the street, which shone from the mere proximity of wealth and power hidden inside their lead walls. Her reflection looked every bit how she felt: a nameless college girl on her way to class.

She pedaled lazily, grateful that not many people were on the sidewalk this morning. She loathed having to actually ride on the street. Be it cobblestone, brick, or even paved road, the pressure of such close traffic made her nervous, and she had taken a fair number of spills due to plain clumsiness. They were made worse by the audience that one garnered when one crashed and burned on a busy street.

But today, the beat of the street was a slow swing, like the kind you might hear at a wedding when the DJ wants to let the older couples dance. At least that's what Bella pictured. The bread shop was selling its first batch of the day, and the sweet smell of croissants, scones, and fresh loaves made her feel oddly at home. Following her nose, she almost ran into the line of people looking to get fresh pastries, but luckily they stepped to the side and let her pass. If only poles would do that.

The early spring, early morning wind teased her playfully, sneaking into her sweater and nipping at her skin, tousling her hair and stealing a couple tears from her eyes and she streaked down a hill. The clouds were a shade that defies a name, an inscrutable mix of blue, grey, and white, and the sky was a quickly dissipating purple—the color of hope.

There, the greenhouse peeked into view around the left corner. It was rather modern-looking, especially compared to the somber stone buildings that flanked it. Bella tugged off her sweater and quickly stepped inside.

Botany was an elective as well as first thing in the morning, but that didn't stop Professor Eltten from taking it very seriously. Punctuality was demanded, earliness expected. Luckily, however, she had a soft spot for Earl Grey tea, which she offered as a perk-up to her other soft spot: her students.

She was a middle-aged woman who had spent her life amongst flowers, working everywhere from flower shops to funeral homes to pay for her schooling, with an odd job here and there at a synagogue. The kinky-haired woman felt that it was a moral detriment not to understand the beauty of flowers, and hence the beauty of life. Not to appreciate the nuances of color, fragrance, and the brisk step of the bloom was a tragic flaw that would lead to a discontented life, plagued by a vague hatred of the quotidian but without the direction to improve anything.

Bella had been intrigued by her radical philosophy, and by the fact that she wore a different pair of eyeglasses for every day of the week. The final pro was that it was unlike anything she'd ever learned before, and that was exactly what she wanted.

Profesor Eltten was regaling the five people already gathered about The Watering Hole – the name for where the teapot as well s the watering canisters were placed – with stories of her spit-fire cat, Caius. Evidently it had sunk its claws into yet another of her botany books, irritated as only a cat could be that the book was getting more attention than he was.

"He's just such a vivacious tyke," she said with a dab at her eye.

"Those books were bit dated anyway. One must be at the cutting edge of all that goes on in the world of plants, you know. There's just so much to learn; don't get cocky on me now, just because you're passing this class. Oh, no. If it's important enough to cut down hundreds of trees to be printed on paper, it's worth a read." She finished with a dramatic swig of her tea.

_That must have been scalding_, Bella thought as she saw Professor Eltten balk.

"Good morning to you, Bella dear!" she called, and the other students gave her a wave as well.

There was Angela, Ben, Emily, Sam, and Rachel. She realized she was actually the last person to arrive. It was a very small class—Professor Eltten's reputation must have preceded her.

Angela was an endearingly sweet Asian girl with square-framed glasses. She had her boyfriend Ben sign up for the class as well, a boy with styled hair and tight jeans, who had surprised them all by his aptitude with plants. Emily was another sweet girl, with glimmering coppery skin that Bella admired. She had a curious scar marring the left side of her face, but Bella thought that the rest of her beauty—including her friendly personality—far outshone the mark. Emily had brought her boyfriend Sam as well, a serious-looking guy who was clearly there just to be with Emily. Rachel also had copper skin that shone from the humidity in the greenhouse, but she exuded an aura that frightened off Bella.

Secretly, Bella wondered if Rachel hadn't taken the class simply to meet a man who would already know all about what flowers to buy, only to find herself disappointed with the ratio.

They had each grabbed a stool and gathered around Professor Eltten. She liked to give a little speech at the beginning of class, a discourse on the theme for that day's work. A wall of budding plants was her backdrop and she looked ready to begin a nice long lecture.

She didn't disappoint. Bella had scarcely pulled out the leather-bound notebook that Charlie had given her as a going-away present, when Professor Eltten started speaking.

"So, Class, yet another Wednesday. That's "Hump Day", right? We're going over the hump. We've made it through the first half of the week, and are waiting for the rest of the week to unfold. But if you imagine it like this," and she help up her hands, palms down, forming a mountain peak, "we've gone uphill already. Now we're going downhill, and that's a whole different story." She paused.

Bella sketched a mountain peak and scribbled "Hump Day" beneath it.

"Things are about to change. No, not because it's just a Wednesday—because this is no ordinary Wednesday. We're in the middle of March, class. Spring is upon us. The flowers you have been getting to know, the bulbs you have planted…"

Bella used her pinky to pick a pressed bit of lavender out of the crease in her notebook.

"…it will all come into good use soon. Springtime moves quickly, like the ER room in a hospital."

She placed the lavender back a dozen pages or so, where it could bunk with a pressed rose petal she'd forgotten she'd tucked in there.

"I know we've talked about this before, but as a botanist, springtime is of course my favorite time of the year. The wildflowers, the ones in touch with _nature_, are rising."

Bella settled herself on her stool for another round of Professor Eltten's peculiar branch of ideology.

"Soon, the bees with be aloft, and the drone of their work in the bushes and meadows will be so consistent that you shan't hear it after a few days. Then, the flowers will change. Green will yield to rainbow. It will be subtle, but swift, you'll see…"

**A/N: There you have it, Chapter One. Really, reviews would be great…A note on tone, plot, imagery, whatever thoughts you have twirling around in your head. I'm super curious! So, until next time, au revoir!**


	2. Head In Clouds

**Author's Note: Sorry it took so long, I got the Summer Lazies. Thanks for the reviews, it definitely makes me want to write more when I see them pop up in my inbox!**

**Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to Stephanie Meyer. I intend no copyright infringement and the only thing I get for writing this is something fun to do.**

An hour of tilling the soil in their mini-plots and having silent conversations with shrubs – most of Bella's circling around the mantra of "Don't Die" – and they were free to go. She unlocked her bike, throwing the U-bar into her bag, and pedaled away from the greenhouse. Homework was to go out in nature, find whichever trees had started sprouting their leaves, name the tree, and make a sketch of its leaf. Bella was pretty confident about her leaf-finding abilities, but her skill in sketching them remained yet to be seen. That said, it was hardly work at all.

After a mind-numbing routine back at UDub, cramming her core classes into three semesters, she had craved a more avant-garde schedule, taking only the classes she would really enjoy. Thus, her schedule was fairly simple. Mondays and Wednesdays at eight she had "Botany" until nine, and at four she had a "Conversational BSL" (British Sign Language) class. Tuesdays and Thursdays she had her "Exploring Emotive Shakespeare" class at ten, and her French class, "La Vie Française" at one. Tacked on at the end of the week was one more BSL class. Most of her time was then divided into sleeping, doing homework, and working.

_A pretty meager excuse for a life_, she scolded. But maybe today would be different –Wednesday was the only day she didn't have work. She could go to the park to do her Botany homework…and maybe, while she is there, walking around studying the trees with her head in the clouds, she bumps into a boy. Neither of them had been paying much attention to the walkway. He would be cute but approachable. It would turn out that he played in a small band, and she would be more than welcome to join them that night. She would meet his group of friends, and everyone would love her – _OOF._

Bella then made a mental note not to get lost in reveries while operating a moving object. She heaved her bicycle right side up, and continued on her way to the deli for her and Felix's sandwiches.

Nope, she didn't have to work that night. Her first week in England, she realized that American currency wasn't going to get her very far, what with the unfortunate exchange rate and the malevolent fee at the Currency Booths. Also, seeing as she was unfamiliar with the UK's pound system, she couldn't ascertain what was a good deal and what was a rip-off intended for naïve ingénues like herself.

Luckily, she had befriended a woman named Stephanie Meyer, who owned numerous cafés and was willing to give Bella a job as a waitress at each. It was the perfect calling for her – there was no danger of burning the place down, yet a limited interaction with people. She could always predict how the conversation would go. Food and drinks seemed to be the main topic of choice, though sometimes there was a chat of the May-I-Speak-To-The-Manager-Please breed.

One of the cafés was called Twilight. A crepuscular café, it opened at five but stayed open until 11. The walls were painted a deep, unfathomable blue, imbuing a sense of mystique in its patrons. The main seating was a bar that wrapped around the room, making a U with the coffee and tea station as the backdrop, and a narrow archway lead into the labyrinthine kitchen.

The rest of the room was dotted with small tables like mahogany islands, topped with tea lights. The café had a celestial vibe, which was enhanced by the little lights that meandered across the ceiling. Bella though they looked like Christmas lights interlaced with the hanging orbs that more effectively lit up the room, and so they twinkled along, illuminating everything that crossed their path in dusty starlight. The glow of the café was dim, in accordance with its namesake.

Twilight was on the same street as her apartment complex, which was how she had found it in the first place. That way, she could simply walk home after her late shift.

Breaking Dawn, Meyer's other café, was farther away, situated near the main dormitories of Kingston. It had an entirely different vibe. Catering to the university students that flocked towards anything young and vibrant, it advertised itself as the "best place to break bread with your friends after a long night of studying (or partying)". An old-fashioned brick building squeezed in between two other nondescript brick buildings, it was easy to point out. It had an arched robin's egg blue door with medieval hinges and a yellow, flowery wreath whose color popped and bedazzled, attracting students and bees alike. The wreath idea had been Bella's, after she was feeling inspired from a particularly riveting class with Professor Eltten on colors and their harmony in nature.

The door opened up to the light and airy inside, which had a set-up similar to Twilight. Breaking Dawn looked true to its namesake as well, as though daytime had come into the twilit café, and illuminated it. The walls were the same robin's egg blue as the door, though the fourth wall was almost completely covered with fliers, photographs, and paintings – all complements of the university regulars. Paper lanterns dangled from the ceiling and large skylights diffused a gleam and a sense of bonhomie, much like the breaking of dawn.

Before she knew it, she was back in her room, shaking her head at Felix's gruff thanks. She plopped down on her bed and peeked out of the window. The trees were throwing their branches into the sky and were jostled by the breeze, the sun was radiant…It made her wistful. She so badly wanted something to happen. She couldn't deny that this was beginning to be a theme in her life. All the same, she wished for someone to come and show her how to live. Living should be more of a rollercoaster, not a paddleboat ride. As it was, however, she decided to pass the time with some homework.

…

"Son of a bitch! Shit!" Bella launched herself off of the bed, diving towards her books and pulling out the ones she needed for class.

_I can't believe I fell asleep!,_ she thought angrily, cursing herself through the disjointed fog of sleep.

While she had been reading for French, a bored weariness overtook her. An insipid voice within her head began rationalizing taking a nap. It lured her in, and of course she bit the apple. And just like in Sleeping Beauty, she was out.

It was 3:55 – Conversational Sign Language was at 4:00. On the dot.

"Wanker!" she exclaimed, but paused to laugh at herself. That was the sort of British slang only someone with a nice, thick cockney accent could pull off.

Bella cursed herself again when she remembered that she didn't even own any slip-on shoes, though luck does favor the prepared – Bella had spent the last three years 'preparing' her Converse shoes, so they were nice and supple, easily stretching over her heel as she anxiously tugged them on.

Shoes on; bag in hand; good to go. She grabbed a water bottle on her way out, not wanting to waste the time it would take to brush her teeth free of morning—afternoon—breath. She really didn't want to be late for this class. The teacher was one Professor Jenks, a supercilious scholar with long, lithe fingers perfect for making Sign Language look as chic and graceful as French. He had a small mouth, made even smaller by thin lips that Bella could clearly picture pursing as she bounded into the room, _late_.

He didn't meet her expectations – instead, Professor Jenks barely acknowledged her as she came in. The cold had made her smooth cheeks flushed, and though they soon warmed up, an embarrassed shade of red took its place. It was a decently sized lecture hall, with an entrance at the rear and dark wooden desks packed so close together they looked like studious church pews. And Jenks was the god. Though there were plenty of seats in the back – her favorite spot – she felt that she should look properly chagrined, and meekly slipped into a free seat in the front of the class.

She didn't look back or say hello to any of her classmates, as she had a sinking feeling that they didn't particularly like her. She was an oddity in the classroom, and not just as the only American. Everyone else was either going into Education or looking for jobs as translators.

Bella didn't have such grand aspirations. Her interest was more casual – what piqued her interest was the idea of conversing without sound, using the body in a specific way, to express entire ideas like animals do. Being able to speak in a way that didn't require a sexy accent, forgave stutters and lip-biting. Plus, Bella wanted to see if (since her hand-eye coordination was woefully lacking) she had hand-thought coordination on her side.

Then, of course she had to ostracize herself further by, well, by being rather good.

She picked up the movements adeptly, because it made sense in her brain. For "Cold," one balls the fists, lifting both hands up to shoulder level, and shaking them back and forth. She got that – shivering. The sign for "Sock" is with both hands, touching each thumb and index finger together, then making a small lifting movement – it's supposed to mimic pulling up a sock. And for "Swan", the right hand lifts to the side of the head with the palm facing front, and the arm moves up slightly to the top of the head, at which point the hand flops into an upside-down cup. Bella agreed that it _does_ sort of look like a swan head, but mostly she just felt silly doing it. Nonetheless, she couldn't help but memorize that one.

Despite Professor Jenk's disdainful demeanor, his teaching method was superb. They had defined sections to help move the class along – the alphabet, greetings, emotions, adjectives, etc. – but he spiced each lesson up with useful phrases, and helped make real sentences out of each section.

If teaching colors, he might sign, "_The blue car over there is beautiful" _intending to give them real-life instruction. From his omniscient standpoint, he could know that eventually they would get to teaching more in-depth about cars and other vehicles, but until then, the class would have at least one actual sentence to work with.

Whether from aptitude or a longing to make him like her, Bella learned quickly, and found herself feeling rather resented.

Like the fairytales say, be careful what you wish for. Bella had wished for someone to come and show her how to live, and come he did, just not how she had imagined. Maybe she envisioned a chance encounter over spilt books, or perhaps a gilded chariot and a jewel-encrusted horse.

Instead, he came quietly, darting through the door before it even had a chance to creak. Only the pattering sound of his shoes on the worn floor gave a voice to his arrival.

They were in the middle of the weekly quiz to review the alphabet, but Bella looked up to see who had come in. Passing right in front of her was a boy about her age, with hair that glinted copper and a pale face that lit up the room with a crooked smile. Bella's eyes, of their own accord, went up, up, up, from his oxford shoes to his black V-neck shirt, pausing only to drink in the image of his admittedly beautiful face.

In the corner of her eye, she saw Professor Jenks moving his hands into strange contortions – and then realized he was signing. At said breath-taking boy.

He was deaf.

Somewhat abashed, she turned back to the quiz, which now just looked like a bunch of incoherent fingers. Furrowing her brow, she tried to see clearer, but couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched.

_Way to be narcissistic_, she thought. She could dream that that boy had somehow noticed her, but more than likely, it was just Professor Jenks, watching to make sure she wasn't cheating. Not that she could, being all the way in the front… A touch of annoyance cleared her mind and reorganized the signs on the page. She hurriedly wrote the answers, hoping to finish in time to look at the boy again. But somehow, by the time she had finished her quiz, he had slipped away, right out of her grasp.

_Naughty butterfly,_ she thought.

Bella heard the distinct sound of two girls in cohorts a few rows behind her, and she lazily turned her head towards the sight she knew would be there: Jessica and Lauren, whispering with their heads bent. Their two knees, angled toward one another, peeked out of twin skirts and were almost touching as Lauren smiled mischievously and raised her hand.

A spasm of panic and jealousy made contact with Bella's heart with a resounding_ twang_. She knew that Lauren was going to ask about that boy, and if Lauren had set her sights on someone… Bella's hope flagged. Lauren was pretty and sociable. In a word, perfect. In two words, not Bella.

"Excuse me, Professor Jenks?" Lauren chirped.

"Yes, Lauren?" he replied disinterestedly.

"Well, I was wondering – _we _were wondering, just who was that man that came in?"

"Oh. Edward Masen."

Lauren's silence – as a rare commodity – urged him on.

"I was his teacher, when he was just a boy. He…needed to learn," Professor Jenks finished quietly. Bella wondered, why would a person teaching a class on Sign Language hesitate to call someone deaf? She thought nervously that maybe there were all sorts of deaf-to-hearing rules of etiquette that she had no idea about. Maybe one wasn't supposed to call someone deaf behind his or her back... Or maybe it was more polite to let the person in question share that little tidbit, as a gesture of respect.

_After all, it's his cross to bear; he shouldn't have his life broadcasted just because he isn't able to retaliate_, thought Bella, the thought of his face casting the room into shadow.

The remainder of the lesson was devoted to practicing their animal vocabulary, a repertoire that included polar bears, lions, tigers, peacocks, rhinoceroses, giraffes, and swans.

When questioned about the exotic animals, Professor Jenks displayed the first evidence that he did indeed have a heart.

"Because it's spring. You all will want to go to the zoo soon."

Bella couldn't help but grin at that, but all too soon, he spoke again.

"Utter rubbish use of money though. Half of the time they're sleeping. You could see a movie of the jungle for less!"

_Well, maybe a Grinch-sized heart…_ Bella considered for a moment sharing her joke with her companions. She didn't. Who knew if they would even find it remotely funny? Who knew if Dr. Seuss was as popular over here? She felt impossibly lonely at the thought.

Finally, the clock struck five and Bella packed her bag. Her stomach grumbled and her mind was on food when she left the building.

It wandered to nausea all too soon however, when she saw a lone boy leaning against a fence near the bike rack. His face was obscured by a book, but there was no missing that hair. It blew up in tufts in the breeze, which had become an urgent wind. The sky towards the horizon was a dark mass of burgeoning clouds, overtaking the atmosphere, unbeknownst to the light blue 180 degrees away, which still thought it was time for fair weather.

He hadn't noticed her, yet. Bella scanned the area for Lauren, glad that she didn't spot her. She had the oddest sensation of crossing into forbidden territory.

Bella undid the lock on her bike, flinching as the metal clanked loudly. Rolling her eyes at her nervousness, she reminded herself not to be insensitive. He couldn't hear the clanking. She looked purposefully away from him as she hopped on, telling herself not to be so egotistical. _He's not looking at you, stop worrying about your hair! _Bella chided.

Nonetheless, she risked a glance at him before she made a circle back to the main road. Despite her insistence against the opposite, hope fluttered in her chest that perhaps he _had _sensed her presence, and in just a few moments, their eyes would meet…

Instead, he blithely turned the page of his book and Bella escaped to the street.

**End Notes: I'll write more regardless of whether or not I get reviews…But I'd love some! Your garden variety review will do just fine.**

**xoxo**

**LeMouk**


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